The War That Shouldn't Have Started
by Youngbountygirl
Summary: "It all started when I made that first shot, and now I started a war against Britain, my brother. I am just a kid, a farm boy in way over his head! I have no military, a few war veterans, and a longrifle in my hands! I've always been a part of Britain, but now I'm drifting away, and I'm scared... I'm scared of independence, of Britain never speaking to me again... of being alone."
1. Prologue: He Came Alone

**I wasn't sure whether to start this with The USA's Post War or this, which is supposed to be the American Revolutionary War. I know this wasn't on my list, but I didn't really have a full story idea. It was until after watching Liberty's Kids, I started thinking I should start with this. I might as well get going on this one, while I still can. **

**The reason I wanted to do a Revolutionary War fic, despite the bagillion (I know it's not a word) other fan fictions like this, is because they NEVER get it right, which is the similar reason for the post Civil War fan fiction I'm about to do. I'm hoping to get America's and England's character right in this. I know a lot about the American Revolution, so this should be pretty easy for me. I will do my research though... promise ;) **

**I want to thank my two beta readers Inari Kasugawa and Quiet Harmony-Chan for proofreading this. They will, in fact, be checking this entire story for historical accuracy. Review please!**

It was close to sundown at this time of evening. Everyone was rather eating a good hardy supper, or finishing up their work for the day. The evening was quiet with a slight breeze heard among the trees that somehow blew toward the beautiful white house with tall pillars, a bricked chimney on each side of the roof across from each other, a white fancy fence along the roof, and three entrances. The house seemed to be surrounded by short green grass at the front, and a few trees off to the side.

The brush of the wind began growing stronger when a young man on a horse swept across the landscape on its way to the huge house. The young man couldn't be older than 16, messy blond hair, bright blue eyes, and dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt, a pair of black trousers, stockings, boots, and a brown hat. He seemed to be out of breath as he harnessed his horse around a nearby tree on the right, tying it up good and tight.

At this point, an older man in a short white powdered wig opened the door, his eyes filled with surprise when he saw the face of the familiar young man. The older man wore a dark blue coat, white stockings, darker blue breeches, and black shoes. He slowly came upon the young man, noticing how troubled he seemed.

"America, what brings you here, old friend?" The older man asked.

America continued his panting, taking off his hat, and staring down at the green grass. As he held onto his hat loosely with two hands, the older man showed a very serious and concerned face, nodding.

"Come inside. Supper has just been made. I'll have my servants clean you up, and you can join with us to eat," the man offered as America nodded, then trailed behind the older man inside.

"Thank you, George," America replied, following three negro _servants_, or slaves depending on your point of view, who were hoping that their master would give them some shillings for doing some extra work. George tended to reward his _servants_, if they did some extra work like tending to his guests, or finding a lost belonging that belonged to a neighbor.

The large rectangular table was set with food made by George's and Martha's _servants._ It was roast beef, corn and potatoes with apple cider for drink. Everyone sat down to eat, George giving his three _servants_, who helped bathe America, about fifteen shillings each.

Slavery was common, mainly around the south part of the New England colonies. It had become such an everyday occurrence, that America can't pass by one plantation that _didn't_ have slaves of the color black. George and Martha were no different. In America's mind, as long as the owners treated their slaves with some sort of respect, he never dared to judge. While slavery was life for the other Americans, including George himself, America knew there was a time slavery was never heard of. It all started about last century at the very colony he was in, Virginia.

There was a man named Anthony Johnson of Virginia, a former indentured servant and slave of Africa. _Yes, he was black._ He earned his freedom, and became a tobacco farmer, owning a plantation of his own. With owning plantations, he owned indentured servants, both black and white. During the time, it was common for plantation owners to own over hundreds of indentured servants of mixed skin color. One of those _indentured servants_ was John Casor, also African and black. He was to serve under Anthony Johnson, like many other indentured servants, for seven years before being provided with supplies to own their own plantation, and live on their own.

John Casor went to Robert Parker, claiming that his seven years of service had been expired seven years earlier, and he was under Anthony Johnson _illegally_ so he could work under Robert Parker. Anthony Johnson sued both John Casor and Robert Parker in court for this deed, demanding for John Cesor to be punished by becoming his slave for life. The court decreed John Casor to be Anthony Johnson's slave for life as punishment for his illegal act. This was the start of slavehood for many of the Africans, who came to the New England colonies. This slavery punishment eventually turned into permanent slavehood for anyone that was the color black, or were inside the cargo of every ship as _slaves_, and slavery became a major part of the life and economy of the southern colonies.

America was still working on finding ways to get rid of the idea of permanent slavery, though he was still young, he had hundreds of indentured servants of his own both black and white, and he wanted to spread his freedom to everyone. He knew that coming to his place would be expensive for the poor people of the world. That was why England gave America the idea of indentured servitude. It was a great way of giving everyone, both rich and poor, the chance to live in America, while still paying for the trip. Now, America was going to have to find another way of giving everyone a chance to live in a land where they no longer had to suffer from religious persecution or _slavery_ of any kind. What kind of land of liberty would he be, if the people that stepped into his land ended up in more discrimination, persecution and slavery? It's bad enough he was having problems with Native America.

It was very quiet at the table, and George knew it was odd for America to not speak a word. This was aside from the fact that America came _alone_, without Canada or Britain with him. Then again, if this was any regular visit, surely America would've sent George a letter, or at least dressed in better clothes. America looked tired and depressed.

"This seems unexpected of you to show up without warning. I've heard there was trouble in Massachusetts," Martha started, showing her small smile.

"Trouble?" America simply replied, chuckling sarcastically. "More like _we're_ in trouble."

"What's wrong? Why have you come here so sudden?" George asked with concern.

America forced himself to swallow the beef he ate, then replied, _"we're at war."_

"What?" Martha gasped.

"The regulars went to Concord and Lexington, Massachusetts to take our weaponry. I was spending the night with Sam and John at Boston when this guy named Paul Revere knocked on the door, and told us what happened. I got my gun, telling the two to head out to escape their arrest, while I dealt with the Tories," America started, taking another bite of beef. "I made it to Concord, luckily, then... i-i... I think I started a war with England." America held his head, a tear squeezing out, as one of the servants handed him a handkerchief. "Thank you, Miss."

"Oh Lord, help us all," Martha responded, placing her hands over her chest.

"You have our sympathy, America. I don't believe any of us wanted this to happen. I didn't think this _would_ ever happen. You and England... you're like... brothers."

"I know! I jus-" America said, covering his face. "I was trying to let King Georgie know that he can't take advantage of me like I'm cattle, and it led to this. England wasn't even involved in that charade, and now I've forced him to put a gun to my head and... I- I don't know what to do! I can't go back home, now that war has started. I have nowhere else to go."

"So, you came here?"

"Yeah... nobody would expect me to be in the Tori colony of Virginia, and you're the only one that knows about Britain, Canada and I, besides the delegates and good ol' Benjamin. Though, Britain knows about Benjamin or you knowing."

"So, Benjamin found out?"

"Nothing gets past him, especially since he's the one that I pay for my spectacles, and... other reasons," America said, then let out a sigh.

"Why don't you tell us what happened in complete detail? I'm curious as to know why you believe this is _your_ fault."

America looked down at his food, eating another bite. Then, he said, "we can talk after we eat. I'd like it to be discussed _privately_..." he eyed at the _servants_ around the dining room.

"Don't trust my servants?" George smirked slightly.

"I honestly _wish_ that would be the case," America said, taking a bite of potatoes. "It's a very hush subject, and I'd hate to give anyone else anymore stress than I already am giving by announcing 'we're at war.'"

"Understandable. We can discuss this in the guest room with no one, but us. I know this has be hard on you," George said in pity as America nodded.

"Thank you," America thanked, then beginning eating as much as he usually does. "Mmmm, this is good." He looked at one of the _servant_ women. "Tell the cook I said, 'thanks.'"

"I'll be sure to tell her, Mr. America," the _servant_ woman said with a bright smile.


	2. Shot Heard Round the World

**Another chapter. This will pretty much set up the characters and how they respond to the conflict. I want to bring out how everyone reacted during this time, both in England and in America. Remember that America wasn't completely pro "I want independence" when the war started. He didn't even think about it during this time.**

**I will try to make Scotland's and North Ireland's speech as easy to read as possible, but please bare with me. Try sounding the words and you should get an idea of what they're saying. Review please!**

England, in his decorated red waistcoat over a white long-sleeved collared shirt and dark red breeches, was in the courtyard of the palace playing archery with his brothers. It was the only way to keep them from constantly arguing, and driving their boss out of his mind, while he was dealing with political issues with France, Spain and now America.

England made another perfect shot, before seeing North Ireland miss by an inch.

"HA! Ye can'ae make a gud shot ta make Englain prood ay ye!" Scotland teased North Ireland.

"Quiet, yer twat!" North Ireland yelled as the other brothers laughed. "Dis is why me bra'der lef ye!"

"I left him, because it is bad enough to strangle four brothers, compared to five. _Dear Lord!_" England responded.

"Do's that inclewd me?" Wales asked.

"You're _tolerable_, but if I was to choose between you and Australia, I'd choose Australia," England said, shooting another arrow at his target, which was only a millimeter from his previous shot.

"You o'nly say that, becawse he looks 10."

"Sod off!"

The other brothers laughed, while one of the British officers marched his way toward them. The laughter quieted down as England was handed a message in folded paper. He opened and read it as the British Officer began to speak.

"War has broken out, my lord. General Gade went to Massachusetts, as his majesty ordered him to, but the rebels have been warned ahead of time. General Gade and his men were met with about 70 minutemen, the rest being men young and old, armed. From what General Gade said, both sides were wiry, then a shot was heard from the left, and both sides began shooting each other like mad. We counted 73 killed, 174 wounded and 26 missing from our side," the British Officer announced.

"_God damnit!_ He promised me there would be no war!" England shouted in rage, throwing the paper on the ground. He took a deep breath to cool himself off. "How many of the colonists did you count?"

"I-I don't know, my lord. Probably as many as we had, take a hundred or half of it."

"Did you check our mansion to see if anyone was home?"

"Yes, we did. The mansion is completely empty, besides the indentures, my lord."

"_I was afraid of that._ Thank you. You may leave," England responded in a wiry voice as the British Officer took a bow, then left. "That bloody yank! I'm at war with America! WHY!? If only he would just listen to me, instead of going off the handle!"

"I dorn't see wa ar boss can'ae lit the kid's government be involved wi' oors. Bairn knows hoo ta pay warfar, an' took caur ay himself damn weel durin' The Great Rebellion. Wa na lit heem graw a wee bit?" Scotland thought offhandedly.

_"You so'und so smart for noot owning colonies like England and I,"_ Wales said sarcastically.

"'at is whit I wood da," Scotland shrugged.

"Massachusetts has been having problems. America says he's been trying to talk to his delegate Samuel Adams about this, especially after leading the Boston Tea Party," England said, sitting himself down on the grassy ground. He covered his face. _"How could this have happened?"_

"So, waat 'appened?" North Ireland asked, sitting down next to his brother.

"Well, it all started from those pouf Acts. America told me that they've been making his people upset, because they weren't _represented_. I talked to my boss, and he did repeal the Stamp Act. Though, more Acts were being declared, making the colonists more upset than they already were. Then, the Boston Tea Party happened. America assured that he made no involvement, despite the fact he no longer drinks tea now. That's when King George placed out the Townshed Revenue Act, which made, even America, very upset-"

"But whit Acts did America na loch?" Scotland asked curiously.

"Well, he didn't approve the Quartering Act and the Stamp Act. The Sugar Act he didn't really care about. His main problem with these Acts are that his misrepresentation is making his people upset, and him feel used. He doesn't blame me for it, though mostly blames our boss. These days, he doesn't like our boss at all, though don't tell him that; I'm already trying to keep America's punishments from being more severe than they already are," England said as Scotland nodded. "So anyway, the last he told me was to inform our boss that, while he has and always will be loyal to the crown, he will not let anyone take advantage of him or his people."

"Waat is yis'r say in dis?" North Ireland asked.

"I think America may have a rebellious streak, but I don't doubt that our boss is abusing him. Honestly, the taxes are only a few pounds compared to here. I don't see how the taxes are a big deal. I also will not let France getting his filthy hands on America. Still... having America tossed aside is a bit unfair for him, and I am trying to convince our boss reconsider, though America is making this really hard on me. Why can't he just let me handle things!? If I can convince Parliment to look into the Acts of New England, I'm sure they will let America have a say!"

"If ur boss is abusin' America, he shood jobby yer fancy tea!" Scotland proclaimed.

England grabbed Scotland by his collar and threatened, _"are you trying to teach me how to raise my colonies?"_

"I ain'a sayin' na different than ye in Th' Glorioos Revolution. America has as much reit ta barnie a nonwinnin' battle. I did an' noo am part ay Parliament," Scotland glared in England's eyes before England pushed Scotland to the ground.

"I don't know why I am discussing things like these with you f**king c**ts. All you've ever done was give me trouble. I'm going to my quarters," England declared, marching on his way to the palace.

"'e's stressed," North Ireland thought.

* * *

><p>"America, wake up!" America heard a man in a red waistcoat over a long-sleeved white shirt with baggy sleeves, darker red breeches, white stockings and black shoes. He wasn't wearing his powdered wig, so he showed little hair on his head.<p>

America moaned, stirring a little, as the man continued, "the regulars are coming! Paul Revere told us on our front door!"

"What?" America responded, his body shot up and his eyes widened. "NOW!?"

"Yes _now_! Get off of that bed, and get dressed! There's not a moment to lose!" The man said, leaving out of the room.

_"Shit,"_ America muttered, making sure the man, Samuel Adams, didn't hear it.

America dressed quickly in a white long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black trousers, stockings and shoes. He almost stumbled down the stairs as soon as he saw Samuel Adams and John Hancock about to leave. America made his way out the door, pushing them aside, while saying, "'scues me!"

"I swear, America! I wonder how many of your people share the same kind of manners as you do?" Samuel rebuked America.

"Sorry," America apologized offhandedly, getting out his rifle before unharnessing his horse.

"And where do you think _you're_ going?" John asked.

"I need to be with my people. You guys get out of here. Pennsylvania would be a good place to go," America said, mounting himself onto the saddle.

"And what about you? What will happen when this gets rough? Remember what happened in the Boston Massacre?" Samuel warned.

"That was different. This will be in a more controlled situation. I need to make sure this doesn't turn into a war, while letting King Georgie know that he can't treat me like a slave."

"And what if a war breaks out?"

"A war is not going to break out, I promise!"

"What _if_?"

America stood quiet, then replied, _"may God have mercy on us."_ He rode off after that.

America took off on his horse, trying to hurry quickly to Concord to join with his fellow patriots through the black darkness of night. All he had now was his rifle, which was the American Longrifle. It wasn't much, and would take about a minute or half a minute for him to reload, but this was the best he could have. He never really had to worry about military supplies, since the French and Indian War. Now, he had to defend himself against the redcoats sent by King George himself.

America made sure he traveled off the road, so he wouldn't be harassed by the Tories. Sometimes he had to slow down, though very quickly. He couldn't risk being caught or slow down in any given second. He did manage to wake any nearby house up to warn them about the British troops being on their way to Concord, Massachusetts. It was the time for them to defend their land and property.

It took him about five minutes or more to make it where he needed to be, gaining directions from the local boys wanting to join the fight. America was partly glad, being that he no longer had to worry about _not being old enough_ to fight in battle. It was hard enough showing up at a Congress meeting looking too young to be a governor of some sort. Then again, he also learned fighting in battle was different than being a politician.

America harnessed his horse near the Buckman Tavern, where all the militia were gathering to make plans on defending their ground. All the men young and old gathered there, America being no exception to this. Inside, he met with several men in different colored coats over a white shirt, some with hats. The rest were boys young and old with their working or hunting clothing.

One man had a brown coat and a short ponytail. He walked over to America.

"What's your name, young man?" The man asked.

"Alfred Jones," America replied. It was the human name he used whenever he wanted to blend in with the crowd. He watched this _name_ being written down.

"Age?"

"16."

"I've never heard of you."

"Visitor, from Boston. I was staying over with some friends when I heard about the regulars."

"Then, it's good to have you fighting with us. Welcome, Alfred," the man said, smiling and shaking America's hand. "May I see your arms?"

"Yes," America replied, handing the man his hunting rifle. The man looked at it skeptically, then handed it back to him. "I don't think we'll end up in a fight. Hopefully, the regulars will walk away, but if the worst happens, make each shot count."

"I will, um..."

"John Parker, minuteman of Lexington."

"Right," America replied bashfully.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Parker made plans about our attack, telling us not to shoot until the first one shoots. It was such a <em>simple<em> order!" America said inside the guest bedroom where he was to sleep at the Washington's home. He was with George, who was sitting next to him on the bed, both in their white gowns. "I was with the other men... you know, trying to blend in like usual. I couldn't help it! I was so scared, and my finger was right at the trigger, and..."

"What happened?" George asked as America's lips became a firm line, glaring at his feet.

"I..." America said quietly.

* * *

><p>At Concord, Massachusetts, on the plain green grass with the river behind him, America stood with the other men and boys. He watched as General Gade ordered his men to spread out to try making the colonists more nervous than they already were. America stood his ground, shaking under his shoes before realizing that his finger on the trigger tightened. All of a sudden.<p>

BAM!

The whole world stood silent, and America froze in shock at what he just did. In five long seconds, more shots began firing, and America found himself running toward the lake, then jumped himself onto one of the rather large boulders under the bridge to give him enough time to reload without getting his gun wet. Being the lake was rather deep this time of year, the water did go a bit over his ankles, and had to duck under the bridge. He had to hurry before the regulars made it to the bridge. This wasn't a battle prepared like many others in the French and Indian War. He had never been scared, since those days.

He quickly jumped to the bridge where he joined with the other patriots to defeat against the regulars in their conquest to make it to Lexington, Massachusetts.

* * *

><p>"So, you made the first shot?" George asked.<p>

"It was an accident. I was so scared and... and... _George, what should I do? How can I stop this madness?_" America pleaded.

George took his young country in his arms, America feeling tears pouring from his eyes, as George whispered, _"face it, America. You are at war with England. You can't quit, now that it's started."_

_"But I never _wanted_ this? My men are going to DIE! I'm not strong!"_ America sobbed, separating himself to wipe his tears with the handkerchief he was given during supper. "I mean sure, there was the French and Indian War, but Britain was with me. I also had Canada by my side too. I don't have anyone now! I'm just a cluster of colonies of farmers! I hardly have soldiers that are from the French and Indian War, almost every soldier I have is with Canada, and only a couple of my colonies are patriots, the rest being damn Tories. I think I might be a Tory as well. I mean, heaven forbid, I've been with my brother, since I can hardly remember, and now I'm at _war_ with him! I can't stand against the Great British Empire, are you _kidding_ me!?"

"I won't lie, it will be difficult."

"Difficult? HA! _That's an understatement!_ You can't expect me to fight against a force to be reckoned."

"No..." George admitted, taking America's hand. "But I promise that you are stronger than you realize. I saw it at the battlefield those years ago. I can't promise you a victory, but I am not going to see you run off when things get tough. You're not like other colonies, do you know why?"

"No."

"Because you are _made_ of the British Empire. Look at your people. Are they not British?"

"Yeah, but-"

"_But_ you are not just of British, are you? You also are of Finnish, Dutch, French, Spaniards, Indians, and many others. Among that, you also know your own lands, do you not? The British all have red uniforms that can be spotted miles away. More importantly, you have your people that will fight with you."

_"I can't fight my brother."_

"America, that is your own decision. You must decide your loyalties to the crown or your people. If you do, may God have mercy on your soul," George said as America stared at his thumbs, which were twiddling. George got up from the bed, taking the candle, which lit up the room a little. He blew out some of the other candles lighting the room. "I bid you goodnight. I hope you've come up with a decision on this."

_"I think I will,"_ America muttered tiredly, covering himself with the bed sheets and blankets. "Goodnight."

"Don't abandon your people, America. We _need_ you."

George left the guest room, closing the door, as America wept on the pillow until he was fast asleep. So many things were popping in his head, questioning of what he should do next. This battle was only the beginning, and he knew it.


	3. The Story With Benjamin Franklin

**Now, just so everyone gets the idea, this will be focused more on story than history. In fact, my viewers should ALREADY know the story of the Revolution. If they don't, at least it'll be entertaining. Just keep in mind that this is BASED off of historical events, but that doesn't mean every single detail that happens in this story is what really happened. **

**Also, I deeply apologize for taking a while. Inari had schoolwork to do, so things got busy. Luckily, I was able to get this chapter checked and sent back to post this to all you lovely people XD Review please!**

America was inside his mansion reading over a letter given to him, looking it over with an eyeglass since spectacles weren't invented at the time. While looking it over, a young teenage boy, who seemed to be about the same age as America, stood beside him not too far from his view. The boy seemed very skeptical, but humble. He wore long brown hair, wearing a white shirt and dark blue trousers over an apron.

The teenage boy half smiled, America looking over at him, asking, "what cha thinking?"

"A way to hold that eyeglass to your face, so you don't have to hold it all the time. Maybe have two," the boy replied brightly as America chuckled in response.

"You know, that's not a bad idea. Think you could give me one of those?"

"Sure, if I was a miracle worker."

"Who knows? You could be."

The teen laughed as America continued to look over the letter. The teen loved Alfred a lot. He was always playful, and loved him like a brother without being so stern. The two grew on each other for a few years now, especially since Alfred was the boy's editor.

"You're getting better at your writing, _Miss DoGood_. You could build your own print shop someday," Alfred as the young boy laughed, being given back the letter. "Though, you still need to rewrite it. You made a run-on sentence, and a few coma splices in these areas." Alfred pointed the marks on the letter.

"Darn," The boy replied.

"It's okay, Ben, you're really getting better. We have to make a few mistakes once in our lifetime."

"Yeah, but it _has_ to be good or my brother will never accept my work! I went to you to teach me how to be a better writer."

"I know. You have that witty personality, and share the same personality as me. Who doesn't like _that_?" **  
><strong>

_"James,"_ Benjamin replied in slight disappointment.

"As Arthur would always tell us, _stiff an upper lip._ You will have more disappointment before you have praises. You will never get better until you make mistakes."

"I don't want to make mistakes. I want to help my family! I already disappointed Pa in the candle making business, and James doesn't like me."

"Personally, if I wanted to get better at something like this, I'd want to do it for me, not just for my family. When it comes down to it, _you _will always be worth it to improve doing what you do best. Families, on the other hand, can't make up their minds on what they want to do."

Benjamin laughed, then looked over the letter he made, saying, "I think, if not for James or my family, _you're_ more than worth to help."

"Thanks a lot, Ben," America thanked as Banjamin smiled brightly, then reached to grab another piece of paper to rewrite his letter to his brother, James.

"I kinda envy you for your family always being proud of everything you do."

"After you're done, how would you like to go fishing?"

"That'd be awesome!"

"Not as awesome as me!"

"You're so full of yourself, you know that?" Benjamin said, folding his arms as America stuck his tongue.

America was like Banjamin's best friends, practically like a brother. They always enjoyed each other's company, since finding America to be his editor and proofread his letters to his brother James by _Silence DoGood_. Benjamin Franklin had been working under his bother James Franklin for the _New England Courant_ for about three years now, and had written at least 10 letters under Silence DoGood.

America hardly ever befriended humans ever since Davie, but seemed to have not grown out of the bad habit of befriending humans. Whenever someone, close to his age group, came close to him, America would instantly have started something between the two. Being that America was a colony at the time, and him and Canada were in charge of the colonies, America was not as busy as he would be only 54 years from this time. One of the hobbies America had time for was helping one of his loyal subjects in something trivial.

Though, this _job_ as an editor would soon come to an end not too long from the start of _Miss Dogood_.

* * *

><p>America heard his door open, knowing it was from Benjamin. He closed the door behind him, sighing aloud.<p>

"I told James," Benjamin said as America walked up to him. "I only wanted to show how good I was." _**  
><strong>_

"I'm sorry," America apologized as Benjamin showed a sad smile.

"It's not your fault. As you say about what your brother always says, _stiff an upper lip,_ right?

"Besides, I'm not even writing those letters anymore, and I only told him, because he wrote an ad in the Newspaper, asking for the identity of Silence DoGood. I've worked so hard in his shop, and did what I was told. I thought, since he wrote that he'd give _Miss DoGood_ his thanks and ask her to write more, maybe he could finally give me some recognition as a Newspaper writer.

"Now, I know _exactly_ what he thinks. I saw how he responded when he saw the letters. He's just being mean, and doesn't want me to be recognized at all."

"What are you going to do?"

"For now, keep working and make plans, so that I can make my own print shop where _everyone_ is allowed to speak their minds! It'll be great! I can see it now, Alfred!"

"So, you are taking my advice?"

"Yep! I'll find a way to make myself the head of my own Newspaper shop, so James won't prevent my work from being published. I love my brother, but he can be such a jerk sometimes."

"I can't say there's a _brother_ that isn't."

"I can hear you, d**k!" America heard his brother Canada, who just came out of the front door.

"Sorry, didn't see ya," America apologized as Canada sighed aloud. Benjamin grinned and him and America laughed together.

* * *

><p>It was only a year later that Benjamin's brother James was thrown in jail for speaking badly of his governor, making fun of the clergy in the process, when the Franklin's were having a debate with powerful Puritan preachers, the Mathers, who supported inoculation. Because of this, Benjamin was in charge of the <em>New England Courant<em>, America deciding to help. _**  
><strong>_

"I know James can be a jerk, but he does make some good points. Even a person that is rude is worth listening to, if he speaks with reason," Benjamin said.

"Nobody wants to listen to a fool, Ben. They should let him speak, but that's not going to make everyone else listen."

"The difference, Alfred, is that a wise man speaks, because he has something to say. A fool speaks, because he _has_ to say something."

"Huh... I never really thought about that. You really know how to come up with fancy ideas. Though, I'm surprised you're willing to defend your brother, after the way he's been treating you."

"I don't like James, but I love him. I will forgive him, give him a chance when he gets out of jail. If he keeps harassing me, I'll leave."

"Isn't that against the law?"

"I can't be free, if I stay with my brother. I thought I could get better, but I'm still where I was at before. My work isn't getting published, and James can't expect to get his way with me all the time. I'm 17 and it's time for me to start a life. I want to be free, Alfred. I want to BE free. I will always love James, and he'll always be my brother, but I cannot learn, unless I grow up. As the Good Book says, _I was once a child, spake as a child, and thought as a child. When I become a man, I put away childish things._"

"Where will you go?"

"Probably New York. If I find nothing there, I'll find a job maybe around Philadelphia or something." **  
><strong>

"It's not going to be easy."

"What part of life is easy? If things were easy, I'd already be married."

America laughed aloud with Benjamin. The two were enjoying their company, while running the _New England Courant_. They kept the newspaper running until James Franklin was released from jail. When that happened, it wasn't long before Benjamin found himself on his way to aboard a ship. America helped him sneak himself there to make a safe journey to New York.

"I will miss you, dearly," America said.

"Don't be sad, Alfred. I'll come back," Benjamin promised.

America grabbed Benjamin, and gave him a tight hug. Tears poured onto Benjamin's shirt as Benjamin hugged America back. After a while, Benjamin grabbed America's face, tears staining his cheeks, bringing their faces closely across from each other.

_"I won't forget you. I'll always remember that face,"_ Benjamin promised with a cracked voice.

"Me too."

With that Benjamin made his way to the ship that would take him to New York. America knew in his heart he'd probably never see Benjamin ever again. This is what he thought at first. He never thought he would ever see the young and brilliant Benjamin Franklin ever again until that one fateful day.

* * *

><p>"I swear to god, America. Why must you get yourself in all kinds of trouble? Of all the reasons to complain about, you complain about the bloody stamps!" England complained, walking with America in London.<p>

"I only want his majesty to understand where I'm coming from. Canada and I have almost no right to say what becomes law in our colonies! Do you know how that makes us feel, England!?" America complained.

"I know. I know. Please excuse me, but this entire day has been stressful. You're going to be going before the parliament, and I don't want you to look foolish," England said, sighing, then stopped to straighten America's jacket. "And would it kill you to keep your suit nice!? I bought that for you to wear here!"

_"Yes, Mommy,"_ America teased as England shot him a disapproving glare. "Oh co'mon! Stop looking at me like that! Don't you have some sense of humor?"

"Actually, I do, and will show _plenty_ of it, if you mess this up," England smirked evilly as America gulped. "I thought as much."

"Say, aren't you Arthur Kirkland?" A voice asked as the brothers turned and saw the man that would appeal before the House of Commons. His face stood blank, staring directly at America. "Alfred. I wouldn't forget that face."

"Yeah. I've seen what you've been up to lately. What with the_ Pennsylvania Gazette_, Old Richard's Almanac, and many of your incredible inventions like the spectacles," America said happily, hugging Benjamin tightly. "Good to see ya."

"You too, old friend."

"I expect the both of you to appear in front of Parliament to have your say on repealing the Stamp Act," England said, then turned to America. "And Alfred, please be on your best behavior. I'm already pulling my teeth with my boss as it is."

"I'll be on my best behavior," America promised, rolling his eyes. England sighed, then rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"You'll find me with Parliament. If you excuse me, I must get rid of this blasted headache."

England made his way across the side of the street as America sighed, "he's a bit stressed with the events that's been going on."

"I would say so. You don't seem to have changed a bit, since the last we've met," Benjamin said skeptically.

"Yeah... about that..." America replied bafflingly.

"No need to say. You know me best. I'd like to learn and solve things on my own. Nothing gets passed old Benjamin Franklin."

America chuckled, "You know, you're still the same awesome dude I'd see working with his brother at the _New England Courant_... maybe grown a few feet."

"And some gray hair," Benjamin added, then a thought came into his mind. "I am curious, how old are you _really_?"

"In truth... almost 160."

"Hm... interesting. And your brother?"

"Matthew is the same age, just about, and Arthur is somewhere about 1700."

"The same age as Great Britain, just like yours and Matthew's are the same as New England," Benjamin smirked as America's eyes almost popped out of his sockets. "Nothing gets passed me. The place you live in is also the settlement of Massachusetts Bay where our ancestors made their first settlement for the Puritans. What made me interested in you was how you acted nothing like them. It was almost like you were a combination of every colony I've been to, including New York. There was always something in every place in New England I've been to that reminded me of you. When I went up North, there were those that reminded me of Matthew, and Arthur reminds me of every man and woman I've talked to in England. It almost baffles me how small our world _really_ is, how endless the possibilities are for different kinds of people. It's beautiful." _**  
><strong>_

_"Yeah, it is."_

* * *

><p>Benjamin heard the door to the <em>Pennsylvania Gazette<em> open, his eyes perking up, to see a very distressed and upset Canada walking through. Benjamin and his apprentices were printing the events of _The Battle of Lexington and Concord_, the journalists having gotten the story from both the Patriot and British soldiers. Canada looked around the room that stood still.

"Matthew, is there something you need?" Benjamin asked.

"Where's Alfred?" Matthew asked sternly.

"Has he run off? I have not heard anything from him. John and Samuel arrived here to escape arrest, but they assumed Alfred went home. If he did run off, I doubt this would be the first place he'll go. You and Arthur already know our story," Benjamin replied calmly.

"I know. Though, I'm willing to look though every square inch of these colonies to find him," Canada said, British soldiers arriving through the door to search the place.

One of the apprentices, the blond boy in a ponytail was about to protest until a redhaired British woman stopped him, shaking her head. Benjamin gave him the signal to calm down.

Matthew was very upset at the events that took place at _The Battle of Lexington and Concord_, so much so that he was having his troops search _everywhere_ for him. Matthew couldn't believe something like this could happen, and blamed his brother for it all.

"That damn Yank! How could he do this to us!? If only he could've just been quiet, and just waited, things would be fine!" Canada glared, his fist shaking.

"If we all stayed quiet, then all you Tories would just be stomping all over us!" The blond boy spoke out.

"You stop it, can't you see this man is in great distress? His brother has run away and gone missing, probably dead by now. I don't know any sane human, who wouldn't be troubled by something like this, even if one was a loyalist and the other a patriot," the British redhead woman rebuked.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Matthew. I can't make any promises, since I don't know how your type do war, but I do hope things turn out for the better," Benjamin said with pity written on his face.

"Me too. I- Are you _sure_ you don't know where Alfred could be?" Matthew asked, his voice pleading.

"I'm afraid I don't. I would assume he's with someone you and Arthur doesn't know is aware of your kind."

"At this point, it could be anyone," Matthew glared, crossing his arms.

"You are right. If I were you, I'd search around the South. I believe it's still loyal to Britain, and Alfred would perhaps hide somewhere that's not going to be filled with patriot citizens like us."

"Then, it'll take forever, at this point," Matthew muttered, then his eyes gazed to the right. "Do you think he'll come back?"

"Only Lord knows."

Matthew sighed, then looked up at Benjamin with such meek eyes, saying, "I saw what happened with you being accused for the _Boston Tea Party_. Arthur gives his sympathy. He doesn't blame you for what happened, and neither do I."

"Thank you, but I meant what I said then. I didn't believe in the separation of America and Britain, but it seems that the time is nearing. Parliament no longer listens to us. We are, but a footstool. If we continue this way as it is, they will take advantage of us eventually. I can't bare to see all of America suffer more abuse than he is taking," Benjamin said, his apprentices finding it weird that he referred to _America_ as a "he" and not a "she."

_"It's not the same as it was with you and James,"_ Canada whispered, so only Benjamin could hear.

"I never said it was from _England_... or Britain."


	4. Arnold and the Green Mountain Boys

**Alright, time for more back story, though this one won't be very long and isn't as close as with Benjamin Franklin. This one will just need a short back story, then we will get to the main theme of this chapter. I originally was going to leave this out, but the idea popped into my head that this would be a good way to setup the back story and relationship between Canada and this character we're going to be introduced to. I also needed Canada to be somewhat involved in the war, protecting his people, before siding with Britain, since it hasn't been officially decided what side he'd take yet. Review please!**

Hidden in the dark corner of a local tavern in Rhode Island, there was a young man, age 19. He had a mug of beer that was half empty. He continually glared at it, his long brown hair only kept neat by his ponytail. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt, and a pair of dusty brown trousers. He kept himself hidden to keep his emotions from ragging like usual. He never had good control over his temper, which constantly got him into trouble.

How many times had his mother scolded him for that temper? Spanked him? It almost disgusted him that he had to find himself in this tavern to keep himself from taking all his anger out on his loved ones. He could almost believe he was close to madness.

Thinking of his mother only made his anger grow. Now, this man would never see his mother again... never again. If only his family were rich like the old times, that his father didn't have to turn to local taverns to make enough money to get by. It just wasn't fair! _Nothing ever was._

"HEY! Wha don't cha come join us? Take a load off!" One of the locals offered, who was playing a card game with his buddies.

"I'd rather _not_," the man replied in a deep frustrated voice. The men got the message, seeing that this man was _not_ in the mood at the moment, and returned to their game.

"Alfred, it's late, we need to get back home!" The man heard someone shout. He looked up, raising two eyebrows at the identical twin young men. This was the first time he's ever seen _adult_ twins. He couldn't tell the two apart at all. One twin had a hold of the Alfred one, from behind, by his two arms.

"But Mat, I'm hungry! You'd be hungry too, if you were getting mulled at by Indians constantly!" This Alfred guy shouted.

"That's your fault for being reckless! You should listen to- oof!" The other twin glared before being pushed back through the tavern door by the Alfred guy's strong arm.

"You got any tasty food around here?" Alfred asked the bartender.

"Yes, but may I ask you not horseplay in my tavern?" The bartender asked in a rebuking manner.

"Sorry. So, what do you have?"

The man noticed the other twin, who was pushed through the door and now laid between in and out of the tavern. He got up, rubbing his head before being kicked aside by two locals.

"Move aside!" The local walking through shouted. The other twin, who was kicked, just glared at the locals.

The man, watching the entire scene of the twins, decided it would be gentleman-like to make sure this other twinwas okay. He seemed like a kind fellow, and this Alfred guy was rather rude by pushing his brother like that. Then again, he knew he was the last person that had the right to talk. He walked over to the other twin.

"Are you okay?" The man asked, offering a hand. The kinder twin took the hand, and was helped up.

"Thanks. I'm fine. My brother can be kind of a handful. He dragged me all the way here from Fort Niagara just because he wanted fish from _this_ particular tavern," the kinder twin replied, looking very angry at the moment. He glanced at his twin scarfing through the fish he ordered.

"Shouldn't he be helping?"

"He should and has. Though... he's always _sure_ at everything. Fits his reputation," the kinder twin said, then his eyes widened, realizing something. "Oh, pardon me, my name is Matthew Williams!" He offered his hand.

"Benedict Arnold," Benedict replied, showing a smile on his face for the first time, then shaking Matthew's hand. "I must say, you've brightened my day, Mr. Williams. This entire evening has been a mess."

"I'm so sorry. I know I get bad days too."

"Yes, though it's a more _personal_ matter for me," Benedict Arnold said, showing a sad smile. Then his face brightened up once more. "I would like to see you again in the future, after this bloody war is over."

"That would be my pleasure. Maybe Alfred will be less of a handful."

The two men laughed, starting a very quick friendship that grew over time.

* * *

><p>Canada had just left with Benedict Arnold from Massachusetts Committee of Safety, being granted permission to capture Fort Ticonderoga, which was located at New Hampshire. Technically, it was supposed to be a part of New York, according to the New York officials. This was a matter that America had not bothered solving, which irritated Canada to no end. He hated being forced to do his brother's dirty work, when HE was the one that started the blasted war in the first place.<p>

Mounting his horse, Canada turned his head, and waited for Benedict to gather his men to follow them on their way to Bennington, New Hampshire. After they were all ready, everyone galloped on their way to their destination, Canada being slightly behind Benedict.

"I must thank you for your support, Matthew," Benedict thanked.

"Just doing my job," Canada replied, then sighed.

"Is something wrong, old friend?"

"It's my brother. He's not taking responsibility, and it's weighing me down. It's hard working with someone that's making you do your dirty work."

"I sincerely apologize. I am sure things will get better. I hope to help gain Quebec to give us a place to settle in, if the Redcoats decide to get rough and_they will_."

"That would be splendid! It's filled with forest lands, game and the Redcoats won't be able to find us as easy. Not to mention we'll be able to create a blockade to keep them from us."

"That's the spirit! I'm hoping these men will be more civil than their reputation. They don't have a good name in New York."

"No, they don't. I wish _someone_ would do his _job_ and settle the matter! If not, it's going to get out of hand," Canada said, then sighed. "I suppose they'll be taking advantage over this war."

"And I'm taking advantage of this to hopefully support my wife and three sons."

"One track mind. I wish I had the luxury for that. It's always confusing. I'm fighting this war to make sure my people are safe, but I hate how everyone acts around here. I can't go home without hearing all this talk about separation! It's not that I don't agree with what's been going on, with all these taxes, but it's a bit extreme to decide to separate from England. Why can't things be solved through compromise?"

"You must understand that our colonies were created to escape from religious persecution, to escape from tyranny. After our war with France, we find ourselves with more _tyranny_. This is a land of freedom and liberty. It's not easy to take away something someone is born with. You might as well take away their way of life."

_"I suppose,"_ Canada said, looking up at the morning sky.

America had always been a freedom and liberty colony. Canada was born following orders. It's always been that way since he was first found by France. Granted, Canada only stayed with him for 30 minutes before being captured by England, but following orders has always been a part of him. America was different. He was spoiled by England more than any other colony. The same was with Canada, only he was ignored more than America.

Though, Canada was a part of England and would help him anyway he could. England raised him, let him live with his brother and made them a part of New England. Canada saw no reason to be against England. Yet, here he was, on his way to the battlefield to capture an English fort. The only reason Canada was joining the fight was because this was his job. It was his duty as a nation to protect his people. Capturing this fort would give his and America's people the supplies they need to fight, being that they didn't have military weapons or anything of the sort.

It was practically an entire day before everyone made it to Bennington, New Hampshire. On the hillside was a camp filled with rugged men in outfits Canada swore he saw in America's closet. America always had a habit of not dressing properly, always being in his farm clothes. Though, Canada could understand where his brother was coming from. America always lived under luxury and found it unfair that he could dress as proper as he wanted, but his people couldn't. That was why, after the French and Indian War, America began dressing so horribly that England had to buy a suit for him.

Benedict walked up to the captain of the Green Mountain Boys, Ethan Allen. He seemed huge and rough looking. Canada was almost nervous, then... they all laughed.

"You think I care what _authority_ you got to commandin' my boys!? I believe it's _them_ you want to talk to and it seems they've already made up their minds," Ethan smirked as the boys laughed once again. Canada swore they were multiple copies of America.

Benedict was both shocked and angry at the same time. Canada walked up to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

"While we did come under permission, aren't we all fighting for the same cause?" Canada asked calmly.

"And what would you be? You look a bit young to be joining the ranks."

"On the contrary, he's close to my age. He looks young, but he's older than he looks," Benedict assured. He wasn't aware that Canada and America were _nations_, being why he called them by their human names. It was also hard for him to tell them apart, but would quickly favor Canada out of his nobility, calmness, maturity and patients.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I am older than I look. I'm here to fight for our noble cause. There is a British Fort here that could give our men the military they need. We will be collecting them to bring to our boys. It would be an honor to join with your men..." Canada offered, eying the men, showing a smirk up his lips. "That is... if they will _cooperate_." There was a short pause, then everyone laughed and Canada chuckled, giving a wink.

"Well, you seem to know my boys' sense of humor. I think I will take you and Mr. Arnold on that offer. Though,_I_ will be commanding my boys."

"I suppose I can live with that. Thank you," Benedict replied, shaking Ethan's hand.

Canada was happy an agreement was settled between Ethan and Benedict without a fight. These Green Mountain Boys acted so much like his brother, so it was easy to get on their good side. The plan was to capture Fort Ticonderoga. This would not only give these men extra weaponry, but it also linked between New York and Quebec, Canada's land. How Canada saw this, if he could get these men to his side, there will be safety for his people to escape from war, and possibly settle this mess quicker. The New Yorkers _certainly_ did not like where this war was going.

Canada, Benedict and the other 400 men camped and ate with the Green Mountain Boys. All this stress and aggravation over America made Canada hungry. He was happy to be able to eat a good hardy meal before setting off to fight.

"You excited?" Ethan asked.

"Sorta. It just seems so sudden. We just finished our war with France, and now we're fighting another war," Canada replied honestly. Ethan nodded steadily.

"It seems Colonial Arnold wasn't kidding about your age. You act like you've experienced the French and Indian War."

"I have... though, this is honestly the first time I started fighting in battle. I was in charge of delivering weaponry and first aid. My brother did the major battles."

"Ah. Is your brother fighting this war too?"

"I don't know... He was at Lexington and Concord, but I never heard from him since. I think he took this war pretty hard."

"Why do you say that? Is he a tori?"

Canada shook his head. America CERTAINLY wasn't a true _tori_, at least according to Canada. America was involved with the Boston Tea Party and everything. Granted, he defended the Redcoats during the Boston Massacre, but only because America wanted liberty for his people, not to start a fight. Though, now it was a bit too late to stop a fight now.

"Our guardian is a British general," Canada replied, smiling sadly. Everyone stopped eating, staring at the quiet boy with awestruck faces.

"Son of a turnip," one of the boys said allowed.

"You never told me that," Benedict said, his eyes filled with shock.

"It wasn't a big deal at the time. In fact, it was a great honor then... I thought it'd be rude for me to brag about something like that. Now, I think it's breaking our family apart. Alfred had been joining the protests, since he wanted to defend for his people. I tried staying out of it as much as I could... didn't want to get into a mess. Then, that yan... idiot went out there, and now he's gone and God knows where he's at now! So, here I am, having to fight the battle HE should be fighting," Canada explained, covering his face.

"Why are you fighting this battle?" Ethan asked, his eyes furrowed out of curiosity.

"Well... these people here are mine too. I don't like this war as much as the next gentleman, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to keep everyone safe, patriot or loyalist. At this point, I can't count on England to protect us anymore."

"Very noble of you," Ethan nodded. "And, you're right, we can no longer count on England to protect us. All she's doing is making our lives worse, letting Yorkers take our land that belongs to us. We can't let that happen. This is OUR land, and we no longer need England's help to care for us. That's why we fight."

"Knowing your story, I can understand where you're coming from. I wish there was more I could do to help," Canada said meekly. Unfortunately, he wasn't in charge of this part of the land and was only helping to give an escape route for the civilians, while also providing weapons to the patriot soldiers that need it.

"You're already doing more than needed," Ethan winked as Canada smiled, then sighing.

It was 2 AM by the time everyone was already on their boats, sailing on their way to start the invasion on Fort Ticonderoga. There were only two boats for the armies in all. Each army took one boat, Canada joining in with Benedict Arnold and his men. At least it was warm out, despite the darkness of the night. This was also a small fort that England forgot existed up to this point. If there were any men in there, they were probably regulars.

This didn't stop the nerve-wrecking feeling Canada felt inside about capturing this fort. It was part of England after all. Though, Canada didn't want to fight with England. Sighing, Canada supposed he didn't have a choice anyways, so what was the point of feeling guilty?

_"We're almost there. I can already see it from here,"_ Benedict whispered to Canada, who nodded.

As soon as the boat landed at shore, Canada and Benedict led their group of 83 men to the south gate. Canada asking in a whisper,_"why here?"_

_"I fear we may've lost the element of surprise. It's wise to attack safely, than be attacked and sorry,"_ Benedict replied in a whisper as Canada nodded.

_"Got it."_

The two armies gained closer to the south gate, Canada peering from behind the tree he was hiding behind. He could clearly see that the fort was only guarded by one British guard. Canada practically snorted, knowing that England definitely didn't think anyone would capture this fort. It was in the middle of England owned territory after all. On top of that, he never would've thought a war between him and New England would ever start.

_"Matthew, what the bloody hell are you thinking, making noise like that?"_ Benedict whispered, his irritating temper rising.

_"This fort is ours. His majesty didn't prepare this particular fort. He's probably forgotten it. They've only got one guard and our men outnumber theirs. At this point, making noise or not will not matter. We can take it,"_ Canada smirked with pure confidence as Benedict rose his eyebrows, then peered to see the lone guard.

_"I already knew that, but I would like us _not _to lose the element of surprise, if we haven't already."_

_"Alright. Ready when you are."_

_"I'm ready,"_ Benedict said, then looked over at Ethan._ "Let's take down this fort."_

Ethan nodded, then gave his men the signal. At that moment, the two armies immediately attacked, taking out the guard, then bursting the doors to the fort open. All the regulars inside the fort looked up in wide shock, many of them drunk.

"I'd like some men with me to apprehend the Captain!" Canada shouted as two of Benedict's men instantly followed.

"Some of us are coming too!" A Green Mountain Boy said.

"Heh, we'd like to see the look on that Yorker's face when we wake him up from his bed!" Another Green Mountain Boy smirked as Canada showed one of his own in return.

Canada had to admit that he'd be lying, if he said he _didn't_ enjoy this. He and the soldiers that decided to join with Canada to apprehend the Captain of the fort, two of Benedict's men and four of the Green Mountain Boys. They quickly rushed up the stairs, many of the regulars holding their hands up in surrender, since they had no weapon or were too drunk. Canada could almost laugh at the idea of how easy it was to take this fort without firing a single shot. _America was sure missing out!_

Canada kicked the door open, the door flying off its hinges and across the room. Captain William Delaplace felt himself being dragged out of bed, then thrown out of his bedchambers.

"What is the meaning of-" Captain Delaplace shouted, then looked up with horror written on his face. "this?"

"We demand you to surrender this fort in the name of the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress!" Benedict commanded sternly.

_"You must be joking!"_

Canada took a hold of Captain Delaplace by the collar until their faces were only an inch from each other. He felt chills down his spine by the serious and deathly glare Canada gave him.

"This is war, Captain. That should've been made clear at Lexington and Concord! You should have known about that, so why didn't you and your lackeys _prepare_!? I know your kind! My brother would have your throats, if he saw this excuse for a military!" Canada shouted angrily, then threw the Captain at the four of the Green Mountain Boys. "Do what you want to this chien sale. Je m'en caliss."

"Wha'd he say?" One Green Mountain Boy asked.

"I don't know, but it sure sounded kinda funny. Let's send this _chien sale_ fella outta here!" Another Green Mountain Boy replied, all of them laughing as they threw Captain Delaplace, while he was still in his nightgown, out of the fort along with his men. After leaving, Captain Delaplace glared angrily and irritatingly.

"Watch your french!" Captain Delaplace shouted.


End file.
